


Just This Once -

by Haunted_Frost



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Identity Reveal, Miles Morales Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) Spoilers, Tags May Change, Team as Family, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21588307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunted_Frost/pseuds/Haunted_Frost
Summary: Everyone lives.Everyone lives, but that doesn't mean Miles isn't going to fall and get up, or that he isn't Spider-Man, or that he doesn't face Kingpin, or that the world doesn't flip upside down in the process of trying to send the Spiders home.But everyone lives.
Relationships: Aaron Davis & Jefferson Davis (Marvel), Jefferson Davis & Miles Morales & Rio Morales, Miles Morales & Peni Parker & Peter B. Parker & Peter Benjamin Parker & Peter Porker & Gwen Stacy, Miles Morales & Peter Parker, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 410





	1. Matter of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wanted to try! More to come in time. This turned into wandering between a bunch of tropes and ideas, and I don't have a specific plot in mind beyond family and friends coming together around Miles.

Peter had been in a coma for days after the collider incident, and people still brought flowers to Mary Jane’s house like he was dead. 

It made sense, of course—the hospital had warned them that he might not make it. The press treated it like he was already dead, which, though it was disrespectful, was a perfect play to keep villains at bay. No one told anyone else what hospital he was at. Mary Jane visited multiple hospitals each day, not always his, to keep people guessing. If it wasn’t her visiting, it was May, or Harry, or someone else willing to get in the rotation and in the spotlight. Even Eugene joined in, determined to protect his friend. They all wore black in public. 

Mary Jane wore black to the press conference, too. Treating it like the end would ease Fisk’s worries that Peter might recover. May had called her about potential Spider-people from the other universes, so she couldn’t afford to make it look like their numbers were any higher than necessary. She encouraged that idea – that anyone could wear the mask. That anyone could take up that mantle, be what Spider-Man was to New York and the world. 

Someone would take her literally, someone who knew it was true, and that’s all she could offer them. The sea of red and blue—it was beautiful. It was insane. How many of these people had hated Spider-Man? How many still did? 

Peter Parker didn’t even _know_ this many people. And yet, she knew that her husband had saved every single one of their lives. She was solemn in front of them, but a bitter part of her asked if regular Peter Parker had died, not Spider-Man, how many of them would care? She knew the answer, and it steeled her nerves to keep up the act. 

MJ asked May, afterwards, if she had any whiskey. Fisk wasn’t a suspect, because he hadn’t been present, but it had Doc Ock tech and Fisk funding written all over it to her. The _nerve_ of the man to invite her to the Spider-Man memorial gala. She could scream. 

She wore black to the gala, too. The group of waiters that definitely had different Spider-Man outfits stood out, but not enough to alert any guards. She recognized the voice of the awkward waiter immediately, and pretended not to know a thing, preparing to bug Fisk. He’d no doubt confess under the stress of a team of spiders. She knew that. It still hurt that he sounded like _her_ Peter, while hers was unconscious, in the hospital, alone. 

“ . . . the _bread_ you deserve,” he said morosely. Damn, he needed help. She wondered what she was like in his universe—she clearly looked the same to get that kind of reaction, but whatever had changed . . . he was gushing to her about the mistakes he’d made, so whatever it was, it wasn’t necessarily good. 

She headed to the hospital as soon as the crew of them left—she had her own Peter to reunite with, like that Peter had his own alternate Mary Jane to go home to. They’d get through it. It was only a matter of time. 

* * *

Banksys his ass. This spelled the sort of insanity Spider-Man normally dealt with—strange earthquakes, glitch-like sculptures appearing out of nowhere. It couldn’t be normal, not by any stretch of the imagination. 

A gunshot rang out, and he sprinted around a corner to see if he could find what it had been. Jeff turned into the alley and saw a small Spider-Man crouched over a body. 

“PDNY! Freeze!” The figure flickered before turning his face, eyes wide. 

“Officer, please—he got shot. By Fisk, or one of his guys. Can you get him to the hospital? I have to find the one who did this,” the smaller Spider-Man begged, pressing his hands to the wound. It was—Prowler, without a mask, and—

“What the _hell_ , Aaron,” he muttered. “Yes, Spider-Man, go, I’ll call someone—” The figure in the badly fitting suit disappeared, like literally, and Jeff did not have the mental strength at the moment to analyze that. Aaron was a supervillain lackey and he got shot. And from the shock of the wound, his brother was definitely unconscious and losing blood, but that armor was worth something at least. Jeff kept pressure on the wound and called for an ambulance. 

Medics arrived and were able to stabilize him before hauling him off. Jeff had a thousand reasons he didn’t want to deal with _that_ situation. It was a miracle and a half that it had happened so fast. 

_Miles should know in case things go south_. He might become a target, thanks to Aaron, and if that bullet hit the wrong thing, he still might not make it. If the hospital accidentally let in some of Fisk’s goons, they could finish the job. He had to call it in. 

“All units, I want an APB on Wilson Fisk.” Jeff hurried, cursing that Miles wouldn’t pick up when he called. Miles would want to know about Aaron, but he had to go with him to the hospital if there was even a chance. People could fall apart so fast. It was only a matter of time. 

* * *

But some things don’t change in time. Miles, tied up in his chair, wanted to scream—he _knew_ Aaron got shot, but did he make it? _Was he okay?_ And he ached to tell his dad he loved him, because if he was doing this, he might not be able to say it again. 

“I see this spark in you, it’s _amazing_ ,” his dad had told him, and with the paint fumes still settling, sharp and fresh on the suit, he leapt. It was like flying, _rising,_ this falling, and he knew he didn’t have to hit the ground. 

And Miles fell, but he got back up. 

* * *

“Officer? I love you,” Spider-Man said, and Jeff was stunned as the kid _god he’d looked small in front of Kingpin but even now why was he so small why is Spider-Man a kid_ hugged him. 

Before he could even get a response out, he stared up at Kingpin, tied up. Mary Jane Parker had tipped them off about the bug she’d placed, and he noted it to one of the officers—apparently, Fisk was responsible for shooting Peter Parker, for the collider, for Aaron, for it all. It would take more than a few favors and a hefty bail amount to get him out quickly. 

Spider-Man was a kid, and Parker was an adult, but he’d started at— _oh shit, sixteen_. Jeff remembered being sixteen, and he winced at the reminder of the dumb shit he’d been up to with Aaron at that age. How could a kid choose to be a hero like that? How could a kid risk himself like that? 

Sure, Jeff didn’t like some of the stuff Parker said or the rules he bent, but . . . he’d wanted to do good where it couldn’t be done, and that’s what counted. 

He, of all people, would know that the law doesn’t always reach everyone. 

Rio called him a few minutes later with news from the hospital—Aaron was alive and recovering. According to the news, so was Peter Parker. Jeff wondered if the new kid was going to take over all the same. He certainly won the hearts of people around New York pretty quickly, swinging by like it was easy as breathing. 

He called Miles back to let him know about Aaron. 

* * *

Peter wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t still comatose as Miles explained his adventures with alternate-universe spiders. Ham, in particular, sounded like a trip—but he’d dealt with alternate timeline theories even when he was younger, so really, he couldn’t judge too harshly on whether or not it was legit. That cartoon hammer was a riot, besides. 

He was glad, though, that Miles wouldn’t have to go it alone—and hell, if there could be two Hawkeyes and three Captain Americas, then there could _definitely_ be two, or, if the story wasn’t a hallucination he came up with, seven, Spider-Men swinging around.

Miles took over patrols and incidents while Peter was still in the hospital—apparently the collider incident had scared most of the criminal underground, well, underground for a while. Peter was glad May kept him in the loop in the meantime, and MJ was amazing at somehow keeping the press and the general public from barging in. (He suspected she was conspiring with his nurse, who refused to let him leave as soon as he could get himself to stand. Apparently, his advanced healing was not a particularly good excuse, as far as Nurse Morales and MJ were concerned.)

The kid was _amazing._ Miles had a different set of powers, but he was already adapting them well—figuring out how to shock criminals just enough to slow them down, going invisible around corners. There was so much he was capable of, and Peter was glad to know that if he really had died, the city would have been in good hands. 

But he was even more glad that he was alive. 

* * *

_Dios_ , but Miles was eating more. Rio used to suspect he wouldn’t grow to be very tall—her side of the family often cut that out from other genes, it seemed—but perhaps this appetite meant he’d shoot up like Jeff or Aaron after all. 

Weeks flew by. It was clear Parker’s identity was an issue, but apparently, no villain was too keen to deal with Mary Jane or May, who’d taken down Fisk with the new Spidey and without Peter. The man started swinging again on patrols, alternating with the new Spider-Man’s schedule and teaching him new moves. 

(Rio was quite certain that Peter should have stayed in the hospital for at least a week after he woke up, but apparently, his stubbornness trumped proper recovery. She’d at least managed to get him to stay the minimum amount she would have required for a normal person after being beaten and nearly shot dead.)

Miles talked about new friends he’d made through a club at school, and how they were kind of weird but still awesome. Ganke, his roommate, was the quiet sort, but seemed eager to hang out with the whole group. 

She was glad he was making friends, but was surprised he wasn’t inviting them over. He shrugged at her when she asked. 

“I see them all of the time at school, you know?” And while she couldn’t deny that logic, she still reassured him that he could invite them over for a weekend if he wanted—he just had to let them know. 

One weekend, she found him at the dinner table with a blonde girl and an older man with dark hair and stubble, and they were arguing over something. 

“Oh _lord_ , they were _best friends_ ,” said the girl, and both Miles and the man cringed.

“That’s not it!” Miles insisted, “And if you say it like that again—” but he’d caught Rio’s gaze in the door and grinned sheepishly. 

“Hey, mom,” he said, and Rio raised her eyebrows. 

“Miles, you should have told me you had friends over; I would have had something ready for everyone to eat, mijo, you know this,” she scolded, and he nodded. 

“Sorry, mama, I thought we would have been done a few hours ago. This is Gwen and, uh, Parker.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gwen waved, but she looked even more awkward than Miles. Parker looked strangely—

Well, he looked like Peter Parker, who’d been in her ward for weeks. Except a bit older, brunette, and a little out of shape. She glanced over him again, unsure if she was really seeing it, but . . . yes, that looked like Peter. 

“Aren’t you a bit old to go to Visions?” she asked, squinting, and he laughed. 

“I’m Gwen’s cousin. I majored in Biochemistry, so I help out on the science end of things when I can. She introduced me to some of the others, and I ended up being the long-suffering adult supervision,” he said. 

Rio hummed. 

“Well, it’s a good thing there’s an adult around some of the time. I trust Miles, but I don’t know all of his friends, so that eases a few of my worries.”

Parker looked guilty at that. Hm. 

“So, how did you become friends with Miles? I can’t imagine chemistry was it,” she asked, pulling out ingredients. 

“Physics, actually,” Gwen grinned. “He was lost, a little late to class, and made a bad ‘time is relative’ related joke, and I gave him a pity laugh.”

Rio didn’t hover, but she did keep an ear out as she busied herself cooking. They chatted about introducing someone named Peni to Ganke to work on some coding project or another. 

“Will you stay long enough to eat? We were going to have leftovers tonight, but I can do something good with them—”

“Oh, no, that’s fine,” assured Gwen, “I can have dinner at home, ma’am, you don’t have to—”

“Will you be expected—I can send something with you, if you’d like,” she backed off. The girl blushed. 

“No, ah, Dad has a late shift at the precinct. I could . . . stay?” she sounded like she was asking when she looked at Miles, but her son only brightened. 

“Yeah! Gwen, Parker, leftover night is the _best._ I promise. Pick bits and pieces of what you like best, all that. Let’s see what we’ve got!” 

* * *

Jeff liked Miles’ new friends well enough. No, really, he did. They were . . .

Eclectic. 

Ganke was a tech whiz, which was normal enough, and Gwen was apparently in a band. It just got weirder after that. Gwen’s cousin, Parker, seemed genuinely interested in the kids. Peni was a bit younger, but apparently, she was a prodigy when it came to robotics. Then there were two they didn’t bring over, but chatted about a lot—Ham and Noir. Sometimes it seemed like an elaborate joke, but they were always on the phone with them when they thought Jeff couldn’t hear. 

When pressed, though, they always said that they were online friends, hence the odd names that stuck, even though Jeff was pretty sure they talked about visiting them every week or so. 

But that wasn’t the thing that was bothering him—Miles making closer friends was great. No, Jeff was more concerned about someone else, now that his son was coming into his own at school and didn’t seem to fight it so hard. Hell, he’d taken Aaron’s scare with a gunshot wound better than Jeff had—although he didn’t know the whole story. Finding out his uncle was a supervillain wouldn’t be the best thing. 

Jeff was worried about Spider-Man. 

Peter Parker had healed up well enough to stand trial and put Fisk behind bars. With his secret out, Parker had to make deals with the PDNY about his involvement with crime, but. Well. No one wanted to be the one to put Spider-Man under arrest. Jeff had met the man, briefly, and he’d been kind and quiet—listened intently to the officers and what they expected of him, how they’d keep an eye on his family as best they could, and _please install some kind of panic button in your suit, Parker, we can’t just deal with webbed up robbers with a note, there has to be protocol followed. Tell your protégé, too_. 

And that was the one Jeff was worried about. The little Spidey was new to the gig, but a natural (and when could you say someone was a natural at flinging themselves off of buildings and into a crime in progress, that was saying something) and Jeff could not get the image out of his head—Spider-Man, hugging him, _I love you_ , that was a kid and he didn’t know what to do with that. 

Peter Parker had been sixteen when he started, and look how close it had been to the end—and this kid could not be even sixteen. Hell, he seemed Miles’ age, which twisted up in his chest something fierce. 

Jeff noted that, after a while, the two of them would split patrols. Parker kept to Queens and Manhattan the most, while the new one was always in Brooklyn. Which made it pretty easy to run into him. 

“Spider-Man!” Jeff called as the kid swung above his head. 

“Officer Davis!” he said, voice dropped a bit less embarrassingly low this time. Jeff gave him a small salute. Spider-Man dropped to the ground, landing just in front of him. 

“How can I help you, Officer?” And Jeff steeled himself, because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do this easily. 

“It’s more about what I can do to help you, Spidey. I know that the PDNY made deals with Parker, gave him some procedural contracts and all that. I’m assuming he passed some of that on to you to work through?” he asked. The kid nodded. 

“Yeah, plus I know some officers outside the mask, so I kinda know a little bit of the protocol through just listening. I’ve been keeping up with the rules, right?” he asked. Jeff nodded. 

“You’ve been a lot more respectful of officers than Parker was in the beginning—I don’t doubt he had his reasons, but it’s good to know you realize that we’re just trying to do our jobs. I was going to ask you how we can help you do your job.” Spidey blinked, putting a hand to his chin while he thought. 

“Well . . . my metabolism is a lot higher now, and I’m obviously doing more physical work than the average person, so I tend to need a bit more food. I’m not undereating, but it also gets suspicious around people when I’m suddenly eating for three. I can pack an extra meal beforehand, but could I leave it with you to pick up on patrol rather than swinging back home?” Jeff frowned. 

“That’s serious, kid—and are you drinking enough water, too? All that activity—”

“Oh, yeah, I drink as much as possible during and between patrols. Peter taught me a few tricks for that. There are some ledges too high for people to go looking for a water bottle,” he said. 

Still, that was concerning. 

“Don’t worry about the meal thing,” he said, “I’m pretty sure we can work something out. For Parker, too. Anything else you need, Spidey? After what happened to him, we’re not letting you down,” he said earnestly. Because for all he didn’t like Peter Parker’s Spider-Man before, this one—

Damn. He could just admit it. 

“I’m worried about you, kid. Does your family know about you?”

He tensed up, back straightening. 

“No, Officer,” he said. Jeff grimaced—he should have held off longer. 

“Are—are they still in the picture?” he asked. The suit’s lenses went wide with surprise. 

“Uh, yeah?”

Jeff sighed before trudging on, “Well, I don’t know what your situation is, Spidey, but know that you can come to my home if you need a place to crash. My son, Miles, is probably about your age, and he loves Spider-Man—I’ll double check with him, but if you need to catch a few hours before heading home from your patrol, you could sleep at ours. Or if you need some minor, discreet patching up—I’ve already talked with my wife, who’s a nurse, and she’s keeping extra first-aid supplies at home and wants to help when she’s there.”

Spider-Man blinked a couple times. 

“You—what?”

“I don’t know what your home life is like, but even if you’re in a good place, I’d rather you not bleed out because you can’t explain a stab wound to your parents.” The kid seemed pretty stunned, but after a few moments he nodded. 

“I’ll come over to yours if I need a spot to crash or get patched up. Thanks.”

Jeff watched him swing away and shook his head.

_That kid’s gonna give me so many grey hairs; I just know it._


	2. Life's Insane (I'm Sure You Know)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some reveals, some internship with a genius that isn't Tony Stark, and an arachnid-based family.

Spider-Man was always going to be insane to deal with, but Jeff had to blink and stare kind of blankly regardless. Life was so _goddamn weird._

The newer Spider-Man was sitting cross-legged on the ceiling, eating a sandwich, chatting with Aaron. His lawyer had gotten his sentence mitigated down with community service in mind, and so far, other villains had decided that following Spider-Man’s shadow was not the best of ideas. Prowler had found his way back. So had Aaron, who’d moved out of his old apartment and sheepishly asked to crash on their couch until he could find another place. 

_“I think I’d like being closer to home again,” he’d told Rio when he’d arrived, two duffel bags in hand. Jeff had given him the first hug they’d shared since he got shot—and the first, even longer back, since Jeff had joined the police academy._ But now Jeff had gotten home early, having finished his reports fairly quickly for once. And now Aaron was pointing a fork at Spider-Man in between mouthfuls of pasta, giving him an accusing but amused glare.

That pairing had been a bit insane and awesome to watch develop. When his brother had been assigned Professional Spider Watch, the general public had been more concerned for Spider-Man’s safety, but Aaron only complained that the kid undermined him so much. It was a little like watching Batman and Robin, only Batman was the sidekick. 

Case and point, Aaron grousing at the superhero in their kitchen. 

“Look, little man, much as I appreciate the save, do _not_ swing me down the streets of New York unless absolutely necessary. That was a disaster waiting to happen. Nuh-uh.” And Spidey laughed at him. Jeff grinned to himself, imagining the disgruntled, resigned look on his brother’s face as a kid lifted him up into the sky with no effort—like picking up a startled cat. 

“If I can carry a bus, I can carry you,” Spidey retorted. “Stop acting like you don’t know that, Uncle Aaron.” The world screeched to a halt, or maybe that was Jeff’s brain. He was looking at them from the living room at an angle they hadn’t been facing, so he just managed to keep his cool enough to stay quiet and process and—and—

Every instance of Spider-Man since the day Parker went to the hospital. Every time Jeff had—

_Officer? I love you._ Tiny arms wrapping around him tightly, strange, goddamn _familiar_ , why hadn’t he noticed—

Kingpin, looming over his little boy. Gunshots firing right past him during a mugging. It was bad enough when it was Spider-Man who he knew was _someone’s_ kid in an abstract way, worse with Aaron putting himself in the fray (and he’d told himself even then that it would be hypocritical, as a police officer, to worry about Aaron’s safety like that). 

But _Miles_ was Spider-Man, and for all he was terrified, he was so damn satisfied. Of _course_ his boy would take a look at the powers he’d been given and become a hero. Miles— _I see this spark in you_ —was a hero and the bigger question was how could he not have known already?

Jeff did his best to breathe quietly a few times before entering the kitchen. Nonchalant. _Natural._ He was a goddamn professional. 

Both Aaron and Miles froze. 

“Miles is right,” he said mildly, “If he’s got superstrength, he can handle your skinny ass, Aaron.” He didn’t even face them, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. Finally, he pulled out a chair and scanned both of their faces, expression as blank as he could manage. Aaron’s eyebrows had climbed high on his head, and Miles was flickering—invisible, right, his son could turn _invisible—_ like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to bolt. Jeff sighed. 

“Sit down at the table, Miles. Let’s talk this out, because apparently I offered your own room to you after patrols,” he said wryly. Miles dropped into a seat, shoulders hunched. After a few silent seconds, he pulled off his mask. And there he was, a little frantic, very sheepish. 

“How long have you known?” he asked. And Jeff congratulated himself on keeping his composure, because apparently it seemed like it wasn’t a new thing to him. 

“Two minutes?” he estimated. “Seeing Spider-Man and hearing my son say ‘Uncle Aaron’ really did it.” At least now Aaron looked shocked. Jeff chuckled and continued. 

“Don’t think I’m not shocked, because I am. But it makes sense, for all that it’s insane. I was right about that spark in you, Miles. And I am very glad that you’ve been following the PDNY procedure we’ve given you, because otherwise this conversation would be ten levels more awkward for you.” 

Miles groaned and leaned back in his seat, tilting it slightly. 

“ _Dad_ ,” he grumbled, “I was going to tell you. Like, in a few days. This is already awkward enough. It has been awkward since before it started.”

“You’re going to tell your mother tonight,” Jeff said, and Miles nodded vigorously. 

“Of course. I can’t leave her out as the only one. I get that.” And they continued chatting, batting between normal subjects and superhero ones like it was normal. Jeff began to realize—it was. Not entirely, of course, but Miles and Aaron had already developed a dynamic as vigilantes together, and Jeff was familiar enough with Spider-Man and Miles alike, and for all they’d grown apart, Aaron was his brother. 

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t quite as insane as he thought. 

* * *

Miles was nervous, of course. He hugged her gently, glanced up at her, was over-polite. He was prepping to tell her something important. 

A girlfriend or boyfriend? A school thing?

She raised her eyebrows as he fidgeted. 

“Mijo? What do you want to tell me?”

“I, uh, this is so awkward, um. I’m Spider-Man?”

Oh.

“Oh.” He unzipped his hoodie, revealing a familiar, stylized spider. 

“. . . _mijo_ ,” she said, pulling him in for a hug. Of course he was. It only made sense—who else could be the new Spider-Man, the little hero that brought everyone so much hope? 

“Sorry I kept it from you,” he mumbled into her shoulder. She pulled back, his face in her hands. 

“I may not like it, but I can understand why,” she said firmly. “And I am _so proud of you_ ,” she said. Miles smiled so brightly at her, eyes watering. 

“And now that Aaron is helping, too, you should be a bit safer. Hm. Who are those other spiders, I wonder?” And Miles told her everything, of course—Gwen to Ham to Kingpin to everything else—and she listened intently. Her boy was so brave (to the point of stupidity sometimes, just like her husband, of course) and so kind. It was the kindness, she thought, that she should have recognized immediately. 

Dios, but she was going to worry so much. 

“I’m helping all of you Spiders with first aid,” she said immediately. “I’m teaching you how to take care of yourselves. And if all of you know a bit more, then maybe you’ll be able to help each other, too. We’ll make a plan, and maybe all the Peters will have a bit of a boost,” she said, mind already racing with potential routines. _Healing factors make it difficult to gage, but Miles and Peter will help her figure that out, maybe. She’d have to get in contact with May Parker._

“Mom?” Miles asked, breaking her train of thought. He looked quite glassy-eyed, but he was smiling. 

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. 

“You don’t have to thank me for being a decent mom,” she admonished, because _honestly,_ what did he expect? 

“No, ah, I really do, because you’re the _best_ mom,” he said.

And that, of course, deserved another smothering hug. Miles didn’t let go any sooner than she did, this time.

* * *

Olivia Octavius. Well-known scientist, educator of young kids and innovator for Alchemex turned sadistic supervillain. 

She was the problem today, as often was the case. Miles was pretty sure she had it out for him particularly—over Peter, over Spider-Man, over other heroes. Because it wasn’t his Spider-Man duties that had him cursing her name today. 

No, she’d managed to keep Alchemax’s involvement with Kingpin and her position secret. So today she was doing a lecture at Visions, and he was watching and listening, and he both wanted to leave because Spider-Man reasons and wanted to ask her questions because _science_. 

He decided to stick with the science, as it was a bit less life-threatening in this instance. 

“A few of my colleagues and I have begun a New York-based mentorship program,” she said. “And depending on what essays your teachers submitted to us, we’ll be pairing up with a few of you each year.” Miles blanched. 

_Please god no don’t do this to me_

And yet, four days later, he got a note in his school mailbox. From the mentorship program. 

_Congratulations on being selected for the Alchemax Greater New York Mentor Program! We look forward to connecting young innovators with the greatest minds in the industry. Please use the contact information below to get in touch with your mentor!_

_Your partner is __ _Olivia Octavius____

He slammed his head against his bedframe repeatedly after he dropped his backpack in his room. Ganke didn’t bat an eye. _It’s not Parker luck, Pete, it’s Spider luck, and I’ve got it_ , Miles thought, willing the name to change to anything but what it was. Just.

_Why_?

He had no reason to believe she thought he was Spider-Man, and that meant he had to keep up the act. And, to be fair, she _was_ an amazing scientist. Miles would just have to be himself and not mention his spidery activities ever at all. 

This was the worst alternate dimension; that was the only explanation.

* * *

Once he’d explained to the other Spiders that his place was safe to be around, they’d drop in at random whether or not he was home. He’d catch Peni napping on the couch, or Ham doing something weird and physically improbable but harmless, or Peter B. arguing with Gwen in the kitchen. Just randomly, not with any sort of timetable. It was kind of mind-blowing how normal it was. 

“I will cut you,” Gwen said casually to Aaron, flipping him off as he changed the channel from a ghost hunting show to the cooking channel. 

“No bleeding out in the house!” his mom called from her room. 

“No promises!” Gwen replied. 

But, as Ham pointed out in his first introduction, it _could_ get weirder. More spiders slipped through—one named Miguel, another Peter, who was closer to Miles’s age and whose MJ looked suspiciously like Zendaya. The youngest Peter was the Iron Spider, apparently, and their first meeting was probably one of the best. Miles hopped into his universe for a good few hours and immediately got into a shocking contest between his powers and Peter’s taser webs. 

(The loser was one Clint Barton, who walked in during testing and got shocked by both simultaneously. It was worth it to dodge arrows down multiple corridors for the next ten minutes that Hawkeye was able to shoot. Invisibility was a godsend.)

* * *

The mentor program thing didn’t completely blow up in his face, at least. He put all the spiders on notice about it, and they were careful not to show up at school too much or at the lab where he met with Dr. Octavius twice a week. He was wary the whole time—he’d remembered all too well what she’d said to Peter, wanting to just observe him dissolve. 

Still, she was brilliant, so, for the sake of science—

“Really? But wouldn’t the polymers destabilize when exposed to oxygen?” she asked, glancing over his work. He grimaced a bit—it was an attempt to improve his lenses in the suit based off of Peter B’s notes, but apparently physics in each universe was just slightly to the left. That is, general principles were there, but littler stuff sometimes didn’t work. Ham was the prime example, but everyone’s tech for their suits, even when they shared specs, was sometimes weird on a chemical level. Gwen guessed that they took their physics with them when they switched—Miguel confessed that yes, more or less, that was how his tech worked, with a sort of inter-dimensional barrier surrounding them to keep them from glitching out. Of course, it made Peter Porker cry something about preservatives, but still, the concept was there. 

They’d been trying to overcome the discrepancies.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m trying to find a workaround, because if I can, then the tiniest HUD ever would be possible, and it would be _so cool_.” She hummed, marking up notes in blank spaces. 

“What about a gel coating?” she asked, “That’ll also improve safety issues as well if they got smashed. It’d have to be sealed across the surface, but—”

“It depends on the kind of coating,” Miles pointed out, “Or visibility gets messed up. The windshield thing—let me look up what the composition of that is—”

And it _worked_ , and they patented it together for Alchemax, and Miles had to fight drones with tiny, familiar lenses a week later. Which, _no_ , but at least he knew how to deal with them. 

He stopped bringing Spider-Man tech to the lab, but now she had expectations that he would bring interesting things, so when they worked together, he was stuck with doing the advanced stuff. 

Which, _cool_ , but also, he knew it meant he had to fight it. So he made sure to know the kinks and not always say them, hoping for the best that she wouldn’t find things on her own. 

Peter always mother-henned him about it, constantly on guard, but Miles shrugged. 

“What, she’s not going to find out it’s me. The situation is totally under control. She wouldn’t hurt a kid in her care when people _know_ I’m with her. She’d get caught, and she’s not about that. Morally twisted or not, she’s not stupid.” 

Which was also why she hadn’t experimented on any captured Spidey from _their_ universe, because they’d legally exist here, and there would be no evidence on someone glitching out. Cool loophole, still murder and all that. 

So when Sandman, of all people, kidnapped his school on a field trip, he got the weirdest rescue ever—

Doc Ock and Spider-Man, working together. And also trying to catch one another. It was really inefficient and Miles felt embarrassed for both of his mentors when they slammed into one another in an attempt to scoop Miles out of the sandtrap that their tour group was stuck in. He facepalmed. 

“Ganke, can you cover me while I deal with these idiots?” he asked. 

“Yup!” he said, blocking Miles from sight. He lined up his web shot, making sure that it was the conductive fluid he’d been figuring out with Iron-Spider-Peter, and pointed at Doctor Octavius, waiting for just the right— _there_. 

As Peter aimed to web her, Miles shot his conductive webs, sending a shock down the line at the same time. Her suit’s mechanical arms twitched, and she shuddered before falling to the ground in a slump. 

“I have to do everything around here,” he muttered, while Peter blinked owlishly before shrugging and turning to face Sandman. 

Peter stopped nagging him about Doctor Octavius after that.

* * *

The spider-family, as they’d dubbed themselves along the way, were all having a picnic on a rooftop. The Peters were comparing friend groups and timelines—so far, the closest timelines were Peter B. and Iron Spider Peter, even though their ages were wildly different. 

“So I’m gonna look like _you_ when I grow up?” Peter wondered, inspecting him. Peter B. snorted. 

“Right, maybe. But you said your MJ wasn’t a redhead? Maybe genetics are just a bit wonky. Don’t worry about it.”

Peni was arguing with Miguel about her mech and how best to structure it. Ham and Noir were talking about color theory and art styles. Gwen was drumming on the rooftop with drumsticks that she’d brought along, humming some tune she was working on. 

Miles just sat back and grinned at them. 

Just this once, life was pretty good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't let this sit in WIPs for any longer. So, ta-daa? I had originally thought this would be a lot longer, but what do you know, my Spider-Man fics are better shorter.   
> Finally done! Hope you enjoyed this little romp!


End file.
